In Bright Meadows

I’m Never Gonna Stop the Rain . . .

Written by:

It’s raining!!!! 

We’ve needed rain for such a long time here in north Texas. Walking on the grass has felt much like tramping through a hay barn lately. The sweet sound of rain as I went to sleep last night continued this morning as soft thunder and heavy drops soaked our world and our thirsty land. 

After breakfast, I donned my river sandals and raincoat and went bareheaded for a long slow walk down the road. Yes, I splashed in every puddle. I sang Rain Drops Keep Fallin’ on My Head; accidentally at first. I noticed after a few lines that it was just there singing me it seemed. So I went with it enthusiastically.

I marveled at the streams forming along the sides of the road and wished I’d bought one of those cute little wooden sail boats in that charming French fromagerie. And except for my t-shirt and most of my shorts, I got really soaked in the rain. My hair feels and smells wonderful now, by the way.  I recommend getting rained on. It’s just got to be good for you.

It seemed to me that as much time as we’ve all been talking about the heat and dryness, and folks have been praying for rain, that it was absolutely necessary to go out and feel it. Celebrate it! 

And so I did. 

I hope you do too. 

Having fun enjoying the gifts of nature is essential. 

I did Tai Chi in the rain. A soggy gopher hole added to the lesson regarding balance. I spent some time with the largest pecan tree and the oldest oak. They have different rhythms.

Pecan

Pecan that’s been there since before I’ve been here.

The oak also has a colony of bees living in it. So I stopped and watched them for a while. They were buzzing around the entrance in spirals, a few flying out and back. I’m not sure what their purpose was because bees usually don’t do much when it’s raining. I’ll have to ask the BeeKeeper later. But I noticed they had some kind of pattern in their activity and seemed pretty peaceful.

Oak

Oak that’s been here since before my parents have been here.

I saw a couple of bees on the purslane that normally blooms in the sun. The blossoms were snugly folded for the rainy day. The bees were landing on them and trying to find their way in. Not today. Closed for business. 

It seems some of the bees were staying home and letting the rain do its thing. Some were trying to go on with business as usual to no avail. 

Aren’t we so often like that? Life gets so busy that in our hurry to get everything done, we can’t see when everything around us is changing and we need to change with it. 

I think when nature changes, it calls us to notice. To go outside and feel the shift. And let that change guide us to what we might need: Eating bitter greens in spring. Early rising and activity in summer along with late evenings under the stars. Warm food in fall. More sleep in the dark of winter. 

And hydration when it rains! 

We should have a few more days of this. I wonder what a good soaking would do for you? Besides softer hair, that is.

And if it’s not raining where you are, don’t despair. It will rain again. And when it does – run outside and feel it!

Blessings!

Pears and Possibilities

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[and “egg” from September 8, 2013]

 

Walking through by neighborhood earlier in the summer with a friend. We passed by one of the many well-cared for and redone mission style houses in town. In their side-yard was an old, large pear tree laden with ripening pears. They had a hand-painted sign leaning against the trunk of the tree. It read, “Please don’t pick our pears. Thank you.”

My friend and I laid eyes on it at about the same moment. His response was “That’s the wrong attitude. Look how many they have. They should share!”

My response was a bit different. I saw several things at once before I settled on something. First, I thought that these are their pears, and they are not obligated to share them. Then, I thought they must have experienced their tree being stripped of pears in secret more than once to feel the need to post a sign. Then I thought they certainly did have more than they could possibly eat, but perhaps they can them in jars as gifts each year, or give them to people that they have agreements with. Standing in the street looking at the lovely, fruitful tree there was no way for me to know their circumstances in order to decide what they should be doing.

I mused that if it were my tree and I needed pears for canning or to make income, I would place bushel baskets filled with the extra pears near the curb with a sign offering those to passersby.

I shared these thoughts with my friend. He saw the possibility of other possibilities. That there could be many scenarios that would make that sign not an expression of selfishness but of self-protection.

“There’s always another way to look at something,” I said.

As we walked along, it occurred to me that it’s divisive to decide what anyone else should be doing. I don’t mean this to include protection of our own and others’ safety in cases of egregious harm such as abuse or violence. But in this case, I’m speaking of our daily responses to one another’s choices about which we are ill-informed. Even if they share their reasons with us, we don’t know the completeness of another’s heart. Many past experiences, beliefs, and desires go into choosing even simple things.

So back to the pears. My friend’s lovely desire, the framework of his point of view, is for a world where people share and give and create goodness for themselves and others when they experience bounty. That’s a lovely paradigm. Until is is placed on another as a rationale for judgement.

I’d like to leave you with this: Perhaps holding an open and safe space for others to have their own moments of loveliness and fear, response and reaction would help allow room for understanding and therefore to create a more lovely world for ourselves and others.